


Revealed

by Nation_Ustria



Series: Green Empathy [1]
Category: Lego Ninjago, The LEGO Ninjago Movie (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bigotry & Prejudice, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empath, Empath Lloyd Garmadon, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, Lloyd Garmadon Angst, Lloyd Garmadon Needs Therapy, Lloyd Garmadon Needs a Hug, No Slash, One Shot, Panic, Reveal, Secret Identity, Team as Family, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nation_Ustria/pseuds/Nation_Ustria
Summary: Lloyd Garmadon is used to being hated. That's just how his life works—if someone knows that he's the son of the warlord who attacks Ninjago City on a weekly basis, they hate his guts. That's why he's made sure that his team—the only people he's ever been happy with—don't know who he is behind the mask, with the small price attached that he doesn't know their identities, either. It's not like they know each other's, anyways, so it's not a big deal.But then they find out.The fact that Lloyd's elemental power makes him an empath doesn't help, either.Basically the premise of the movie pre-reveal with show elements and personalities, and Lloyd's Green Power is him being able to sense and be influenced by the emotions of those around him.
Relationships: Cole & Lloyd Garmadon & Kai & Nya & Jay Walker & Zane
Series: Green Empathy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178393
Comments: 15
Kudos: 113





	Revealed

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> Hokay, a not-so-quick rundown of how Lloyd's power works in this fic: Lloyd can only sense the individual emotions of a person if they're within a dozen or so feet of him. Past that, he just gets a general sense of what people are collectively feeling up to about a hundred feet away, which he typically zones out as background noise unless it's stronger emotion like panic/fear/hatred. When he feels the emotions of individuals who are close to him, he can feel each emotion "radiating" off of them—the closer the individual/the stronger the emotion, the better he can sense the emotion. The emotion also seems stronger if it's directed towards Lloyd, such as if someone is angry with him. Lloyd can't turn his power on or off—it's just continuously on, and has been for pretty much as long as he can remember—and as such doesn't pay a super ton of specific attention to it unless he's trying to figure out what someone's feeling. It's just another one of his senses. When Lloyd senses someone's emotions, from his perspective it feels like he absorbs them as the individual gives them off, the emotion in question taking up residency in his body (typically in his chest). Lloyd can easily distinguish others' emotions from his own emotions, as others' emotions feel different—almost detached—and feel different ways inside of him, like cold and sharp for hatred or bubbling warmth for amusement. If negative emotions are strong enough then they can cause him physical pain, but in order for that to happen Lloyd had to have absorbed (he calls it 'collected' or 'gathered') quite a bit of that emotion—unlike his actual emotions, others' emotions store inside of him until he either burns through it or until they're counteracted (negative and positive emotions cancel each other out). Positive emotions burn through pretty quick, and also influence Lloyd's own emotions in a gentle way (either helping him cheer up or amplifying his own emotions if he feels the same). Negative emotions, however, take ages to burn through and basically dominate Lloyd's own emotions, keeping him from actually feeling anything but the foreign emotions if they're strong enough. As such, Lloyd depends on the others (the ninja) to counteract the hate he gathers at school every day (it usually isn't too bad, he'll mostly feel gloomy and an ache will slowly build in his chest as the school day goes on) with their teasing and jokes and affection for him. The other ninja are fully aware of how Lloyd's power works, but they don't know how much hate he actually has to put up with each day as they don't know who he is.  
> Yee. Okay, hope that makes sense. Continue on.
> 
> Other notes: Kai and Nya know each others' identities and the rest of the ninja know they're siblings. No one knows that Zane is a nindroid yet. Lloyd's Mom here is kinda a mixture of Koko and Misako in my mind, but she's not really in the fic so it's not massively important. I forgot about Sensei Wu so just pretend that he's off somewhere researching something to help fight his brother for the duration of the fic.
> 
> Mandatory apologies for typos
> 
> Enjoy!

Lloyd yelped as someone tackled him, shielding him with their body as they both tumbled to the rooftop. Lloyd felt rather than saw the blasts of sludge pass through where he’d been standing, and ice ran down his spine. That’d been close.

They finally rolled to a stop, his protector instantly hauling him to his feet. Lloyd huffed out a half-annoyed breath, turning to glare at them—it was Red, who raised his eyebrows, amusement radiating off him.

“A thank you would be nice,” Red said, his voice echoing on a slight delay from the comm in Lloyd’s ear.

Lloyd opened his mouth to protest, then noticed another blast of sludge headed directly for them. It was his turn to tackle red, the other ninja squawking in jolting surprise.

The sludge missed them by inches.

Cyan’s voice came through the comm. “If you two would quit goofing off—”

Blue cut her off. “A little help over here!”

Lloyd scrambled to his feet and darted to the edge of the rooftop. The scene in front of him was about as much of a disaster as usual—scratch that, more of a disaster. Lord Garmadon’s latest and greatest idea had been to put his goons in jetpacks and equip them with blasters that sprayed a thick, purple sludge that hardened into a nearly impenetrable shell as soon as it came into contact with anything. Thankfully, it didn’t really cause too much damage to the city itself, but it was allowing the goons to get away with taking pretty much anything they wanted, from jewels to tech to meatball sandwiches—Lloyd still wasn’t really sure why they’d gone after that last one—and even worse, it meant that if any of Lloyd’s team were hit that they’d be down for the count for at least the next few hours.

All in all, it was just another battle.

Goons were spread across the streets and rooftops and in the air between buildings, either breaking into buildings or being apprehended by Lloyd’s team. White was a few roofs over and several floors down, disabling jetpacks and sludge-blasters with his usual precision. Not for the first time, Lloyd was impressed with his control over his shurikens—they almost seemed alive, darting out to slice wires and tubes before either stabbing into a handy location or somehow coming back around so White could catch them. He was employing his ice, too, using it to form walls to defend himself from blasts of the sludge or freezing downed goons to the rooftop so that they couldn’t rejoin the battle. Cyan was in the air, having filched a jetpack and reworked it for herself as per her usual style. Her trident was MIA—probably left somewhere earlier on in the battle—so she was using her water as her main offense, blasting goons out of the sky. Blue and Black were both on the streets below, Black having created a sort of maze using his earth that kept goons from hitting him with sludge and let him get behind them so he could slice their tech apart with his scythe, then not-so-elegantly knocked them out with punches to the head.

Blue, though—Blue was in trouble. He was furthest from the center of the battle, too far away to use any of Black’s barriers to defend himself, which was the problem. Lightning did exactly nada against the sludge, and a bunch of the goons had identified him as the weak link, ganging up on him. It was only thanks to how fast he was that he wasn’t already stuck in a hard shell—but even then, he was only just barely dodging the blasts.

Lloyd registered all of this in an instant. “Red, Black, go help Blue. Cyan, you’ve got incoming at seven.”

“What, no orders for White?” Red joked, already leaping off the building from besides Lloyd. A second later he was swinging down towards the street below from the wire he’d launched at another building. Lloyd was quick to follow, but instead of heading for Blue he dropped down to the maze Black had just left.

“Now is really not the appropriate time,” White countered.

“No kidd—” Blue cut himself off with a yelp.

Lloyd darted between the walls, leaping over unconscious goons and taking out the few that were still trapped in the maze. He used his daggers to take out the tech—seriously, _why_ were there so many exposed wires? It was almost like Lord Garmadon _wanted_ them to be easy to take out—and then hit the right pressure points to knock the goons out before they had a chance to react.

“Nine o’clock!” Black barked.

Lloyd didn’t bother checking his left, knowing the warning wasn’t for him. There wasn’t anyone close to him—anyone conscious, anyways. He scaled one of the walls, carefully standing on top of it—

And was hit by sludge. Lloyd tumbled off the wall, the left side of his body locked into place by the hardened shell.

He landed with a _thud_ that made him wince, but thankfully the jarring impact didn’t cause any pain. It did knock the air out of his lungs, though, making black spots dance in his vision.

“Cyan, below you!” White said sharply. There was a startled noise of surprise—or maybe annoyance—from Cyan.

“You good, Blue?” Black asked.

“Fine,” Blue gasped back.

Air started to exist for Lloyd again, and he sucked in as much as he could. It was hard, though—the shell had locked his jaw into place, keeping him from opening his mouth. Which, he realized, was even more of a problem because it meant that he wasn’t able to tell his team that he was down.

Police sirens started wailing, rapidly getting closer.

“Finally,” Red muttered.

Lloyd could sense the goons starting to panic, scrambling back in the direction of Lord Garmadon’s volcano. It always happened that way—once Lloyd’s team disabled enough of the goons, the police would come in and start arresting them. For some messed up reason that Lloyd didn’t understand, there was a law that prevented the police from actually doing more for holding them for seventy-two hours before they had to let them go, so Lloyd and the others had figured that the fear of being arrested probably had more to do with Lord Garmadon’s punishment for it than actually being arrested. After all, why else would they face _ninja_ without hesitation—ninja who could control the elements, no less—and then be afraid of a few measly cops?

If only the police would actually _do_ something beyond wait until they deemed the situation “subdued” enough to show up. Lloyd and the others usually had to fight for _hours_ before they actually reached that point.

Lloyd listened to the sounds of battle fade, his teammates gradually disengaging. 

“Happy to help,” Cyan’s voice came through the comm. She was probably responding to the usual thanks from a police officer.There was a pause, and then, “No, that’s alright.”

“Casualties?” Black asked.

“I twisted my ankle, but it’s not too bad,” Blue said.

“I’ve got a few burns on my fingers from rewiring this thing,” Cyan added. “But they’re not serious.”

“I’m fine,” White offered. 

“Just bruised,” Red reported. “Black?”

“A bit sore, but fine.”

There was a pause as they waited for Lloyd to join in.

Lloyd hummed a random note, trying to make sure that he didn’t sound hurt or scared. What actually came out sounded more annoyed, which was appropriate, he supposed.

“Green?” Red asked, sounding a bit bewildered.

“Green, are you okay?” Black asked.

Lloyd hummed an affirmative.

“He got hit,” Cyan realized.

Red swore. “Right. Where are you?”

Lloyd didn’t respond, rolling his eyes. After a short moment Red made a startled noise—probably from Cyan smacking his arm.

“I last saw him heading in the direction of the constructions Black created,” White offered.

“The constru—you can just say walls, White,” Red said.

“Or you could call it a maze,” Blue added.

Lloyd could practically hear Black rolling his eyes. “Are you in there, Green?”

Lloyd hummed another affirmative.

A few minutes later, his team was standing around him, Black using his super-strength to break the shell off Lloyd in pieces under White and Blue’s direction. Red and Cyan stayed a little farther back, keeping watch for police who might come across them.

“Oh how the mighty has fallen,” Red teased, affection rolling off him in soft waves.

Lloyd glared at him as best he could, but he still couldn’t move his head.

“It’s ‘ _have_ fallen’,” White corrected, then pointed to another area of the shell. “There.”

Black obeyed, breaking the area away.

“Whatever,” Red grumbled. Embarrassment briefly burst out of him.

Blue snickered. “If you’re going to quote someone you should do it right.”

“Do I look like I care?” Red countered.

“Nope,” Cyan said brightly. “But then again, we can only see like six inches of your face.”

Black finished removing the shell on Lloyd’s leg, and Lloyd stretched it out as best he could, grimacing. The muscles had already started to cramp up.

“Fourteen square inches, actually,” Blue said. Everyone paused, looking at him, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “What? I got bored.”

“So you measured how many inches of our faces we can see?” Black asked.

“I was bored,” Blue repeated.

Cyan snorted. “I mean, I’ve done weirder things when I’ve gotten bored, so.”

“Really?” Blue asked. “Like what?”

“Like I’m actually going to tell you.”

“How about the time you dyed your hair green?” Red offered, his smirk visible even through the mask.

Cyan sputtered, betrayal and embarrassment radiating off of her. “Hey—traitor!”

“Wait, you _actually_ —” Blue didn’t finish because he was laughing too much, doubled over and holding his stomach. Black was also snickering, and White had his usual amused gleam in his eyes. Lloyd was trying to keep himself from laughing because it felt _really_ weird for his chest to move that much under the shell, but the combined amusement of the others was too strong for him not to, bubbling in his chest along with his own.

“Or how about the time you—”

Cyan lunged at Red, making him squawk. Black burst into full laughter, momentarily pausing from breaking the shell off of Lloyd’s arm as White pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle his own laughter. Lloyd was still laughing, his own happiness being amplified as he collected all of theirs.

Everyone was still laughing when Black finally managed to crack the rest of the shell into pieces and it crumbled off of Lloyd. Cyan and Red were still squabbling about how, exactly, her hair had ended up green—Cyan was insisting that she meant to do it brown, but that the box had the wrong dye, while Red maintained that she had _definitely_ intentionally dyed her hair green.

“You’re not trying to steal my color, are you?” Lloyd asked teasingly, sitting up and brushing the rest of his shell off of himself.

Cyan sputtered again, making Red laugh. “No—of course not!”

It was then that the police finally reached their area of the maze, freezing in apparent surprise that the ninja were still here. Lloyd glanced at the others, communicating wordlessly, and then they were all scrambling over the walls, racing in the direction of their super secret ninja base.

When they finally reached the warehouse, they were all breathlessly laughing as Blue and Red bickered about which of them had gotten there first. Cyan made eye contact with Lloyd, pointedly rolling her eyes. Lloyd snickered.

“So I don’t know about you, but I’m freaking exhausted,” Black announced, collapsing on the couch with his limbs spread like a starfish.

Red broke out of his argument long enough to ask, “‘Freaking’?”

“There are children present,” Black said mildly, nodding in Lloyd’s direction.

“Hey!” Lloyd protested. Sure, he might be the youngest, but not by much—he was only a handful of months younger than Cyan, which was a pattern that continued on to Blue, Red, Black and then White. 

“Innocent sunshine child,” Cyan added.

Lloyd grabbed a pillow from the couch, chucking it at her. It wasn’t exactly his best throw—he was laughing too much, and he’d finally started to feel the aches and bruises from the battle.

Cyan caught the pillow. “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play, huh?”

Lloyd barely had time to realize the mistake he’d just made before the pillow was hurtling back at him. He dived out of the way, but a full on pillow fight had started, Red and Blue eagerly joining in. Black seemed content to watch them all scramble from his place on the couch, while White stayed off to the side, carefully summoning patches of ice at the best—or worst, depending on how you looked at it—moments to send them sprawling on the floor.

Lloyd had just slipped on one of those patches, landing hard on his back and breathlessly laughing, when another pillow slammed into his face. He squeaked, rolling away—

And froze as cold concrete brushed against his nose.

It took a long moment for Lloyd’s mind to catch up to why every fiber of his being was screaming _bad_ , why it felt like his heart had stopped as every nerve lit up with alarm. Everything felt wrong, the emotions in the room had gone cold—

His mask was gone.

Which meant that the others could see his _face_.

And it had gone dead silent, shock radiating throughout the room.

_No, no no no no nononononono—_

Lloyd scrambled to his feet, unable to keep himself from turning to look at the others. They were all frozen, their eyes huge as they stared at him. Belatedly Lloyd realized that he should’ve tried to cover his face, but it was too late for that, and even worse his hood had fallen back, too, revealing his signature white-blonde hair.

Red blinked first. “What. The actual—”

“You’re—” Blue managed, his voice sounding strangled.

Cyan stepped back, what little Lloyd could see of her face morphing from shock to something else, something Lloyd knew only too well—disgust.

The others’ expressions were doing the same, and Lloyd staggered as their hate slammed into him like a truck, burning cold in his chest.

Lloyd’s instincts kicked in. He snatched his mask from the ground and barreled for the exit, and then he was streaking across the rooftops, his mask back on his face, his heart pounding to the endless beat of _get away_. He didn’t know where he was going—he didn’t _care_ where he was going, he was just running, just as he’d done over and over his entire life—

Eventually his legs gave out, the exhaustion from the battle finally catching up to him. He collapsed to hands and knees on whatever rooftop he was on, his chest screaming and tears burning his eyes.

They knew. That was all he could think, that they knew, they’d found out—he’d worked so hard to keep them from _ever_ finding out—

And they hated him. Just like everyone else, they hated him, Lloyd’s stupid excuse for an elemental power collecting that hate and storing it inside of him—why wouldn’t they? He was Lord Garmadon’s _son_ —they—

He’d lost them. He’d lost the only people he’d ever been happy with outside of his mom—he’d _let them find out_ , and now they hated him like they were supposed to.

Lloyd was crying. He didn’t remember when he’d started to, but now his face was wet and his already hurting chest was hitching painfully and the world was starting to spin. He—he still needed to get away, still needed to hide—

He blindly scrambled to those weird box things every roof seemed to have that he still didn’t know the purpose of, finding a corner and pressing himself into it. He hugged his legs to his chest, burying his face in his knees as broken sobs forced their way out of him.

He’d lost them.

*****

The weekend was agony. Normally it would have been a release, freedom from the slow, slogging pain of school and getting to hang out with the others, joking and laughing and playing and training. But he couldn’t—going back to the warehouse would be even worse than school. People who didn’t know who he was when he first met them were _always_ meaner than the ones who recognized him right off the bat; the longer it took them to realize, the more they hated him when they found out. The record had been almost fifteen minutes, and that lady had actually _attacked_ him when she found out.

The others hadn’t known who he really was for almost a _year_.

No, Lloyd couldn’t go back. Which meant that he was stuck in the tiny apartment he shared with his mom—who was gone for two weeks because of a conference she had to go to in order to keep her job—for two days, with nothing to do but work on homework that would barely be graded as a pass no matter what he did with it and pretend that he didn’t feel like he had knives digging into his chest.

Then the new school week began.

It was strange, this time, almost weirdly comforting—because it was exactly the same as every other week. Nobody recoiled from him more than normal, all of the insults were the typical ones, he still had things thrown at him in class—the levels of hate directed at him were typical for that of a few days after one of Lord Garmadon’s attacks, the strength of the icy fire inside of him slowly growing. It was almost as if he could pretend that his world _hadn’t_ been shattered, that all he had to do was get through the day before he could goof off with Blue or talk about space with White or torture Red with booby traps. Before he could be _happy_ , the others’ laughter and good-natured teasing melting away the hate—the hate directed at _himself_ —that had collected in his chest and smothered his own emotions.

But that was gone.

Lloyd zoned out even more than usual, barely noticing when things bounced off his head or arms in class. He stared at the paper that he was supposed to be filling with notes, his mind cycling between trying to interpret the words the teacher was saying and silently screaming at himself for messing things up and an aching numbness that made the pain in his chest worse.

Lunch came, but Lloyd hadn’t brought any food and it wasn’t like he could get some elsewhere—not to mention that he wasn’t hungry, anyways—so he just collapsed at his table, burying his head in his arms.

Apparently he’d fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he was being jolted awake by the bell. He swore under his breath, then swore again when he realized that his backpack was gone. Tears pricked his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

Walking into class late wasn’t fun, because it meant that all of the attention was focused on him—the hatred and anger sharpened, narrowing in on him, making Lloyd’s stomach churn and bile force its way up his throat even as the icy pain in his chest got stronger. He bit the inside of his lip, focusing on his breathing and keeping his gaze on the floor as he made his way to an empty desk.

Lloyd buried his head in his arms, not caring when the teacher’s irritation with him flared. Two more hours. He only had to last two more hours.

But then what?

This time, Lloyd couldn’t stop the tears. He was able to keep himself silent, though, and he was able to keep himself still—with his face hidden, no one else could tell that he was crying.

*****

The next morning, Lloyd almost didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t want to—he felt hollow, his mind numb as the blazing, freezing, painful hatred blocked everything else out. Lloyd was strangely disconnected from his body, because he _knew_ that the hatred wasn’t his—that it was other peoples’—and it felt that way, too. It was different from his own emotions. But it was all he could feel, and it _hurt_. Hurt throughout every part of his body.

Eventually, Lloyd forced himself to get up. He went through the motions, and then he was in class again, the foreign hatred inside of him being added to once more.

It was only when Chen slammed him against a locker in between classes that Lloyd was pulled back into reality. He flinched, blinking up at his bully. The hatred coming from Chen was different, mixed with a sadistic pleasure that made Lloyd nauseous. It buried Lloyd’s own fear and annoyance, which had briefly pushed its way through the rest of the hate.

“You must think you’re so clever, avoiding me for a whole day, huh, Garmadork?” Chen sneered.

Lloyd stared at the ground, barely registering his words.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

“Leave him alone.” The voice was serious, almost growling, and—it was vaguely familiar.

Chen’s grip on Lloyd loosened, his attention switching to whoever had spoken. Lloyd sagged slightly as the nausea faded a little.

“I’m sorry?” Chen asked incredulously.

“You heard me. Back off.”

Lloyd blinked. Was someone . . . _defending_ him? That couldn’t be right. No one would do that. Lloyd looked up, trying to see who it was. It was a guy with olive skin and the spikiest hair that Lloyd had ever seen, wearing a bright red jacket. He was glaring at Chen, which drew attention to the scar that notched his eyebrow in a way that was very familiar but that Lloyd couldn’t place through the pain.

This had to be a joke. Lloyd tried to figure out what the guy was feeling, but he couldn’t distinguish him from the endless hate that was radiating from everyone else in the hallway.

“Last warning,” the guy said.

Chen laughed—and then he stopped, because the other guy had punched him in the face.

Lloyd slumped against the lockers as Chen dropped him, wincing at the burst of surprise that came from everybody around them. Then the other guy was hauling Lloyd up—Lloyd flinched as he started collecting the fierce anger rolling through him, reflexively tensing. It wasn’t directed at him, though, which meant that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Lloyd wasn’t really able to pay attention to where the guy was dragging him until they stopped. Lloyd dimly realized that they were out of range of the school’s hatred, but the guy’s anger was still burning through him, adding to the pain.

Except . . . the guy’s anger was turning warm? And soft. His anger was turning into something else, something that slowly started melting the anger Lloyd had collected.

Concern?

No, that couldn’t be right. No one was ever concerned about him.

But whatever it was warm and soft and gentle, and it felt so _nice_ , flowing into him where the guy was gripping his arm and dimming the pain.

They guy guided Lloyd to sit—it was more of a collapse, really—and then the guy was saying something, his hand on Lloyd’s shoulder. Lloyd didn’t hear it, too focused on whatever emotion he was collecting.

But then the emotion turned into something else—guilt, thick and sticky and suffocating. Lloyd tensed, and the guilt got stronger—but almost as fast as it had it started fading back to the emotion it’d been before.

The guy’s hand left his shoulder and Lloyd whined at the loss of contact—sure, he could still feel the warmth coming from him, but it was only a fraction compared to what physical contact enabled him to gather.

Then the contact was back—because the guy was wrapping his arms around Lloyd, gently pulling him into his lap to hold him like he was a little kid. Lloyd sagged against his chest as the warm, soft emotion flowed through him, slowly but surely melting away the icy hatred that was still making his chest hurt.

And then the warm emotion changed, getting even stronger. Lloyd would have stiffened in surprise if it hadn’t felt so amazing—he recognized this emotion, and what little of the rational part of his mind was still working was failing to compute how it was coming from the person who was holding him. Lloyd had only ever felt it directed at him by his Mom, as the emotion was _love_. Strong, warm, beautiful familial love that Lloyd had always desperately wished for more of.

Lloyd unconsciously pressed himself closer to the person holding him, trying to collect as much as possible.

Eventually, the rest of the hate and the anger and the bits of a dozen other negative emotions that Lloyd had gathered over the last few days melted away, the icy hole in Lloyd’s chest being replaced with a warm glow. Lloyd let out shuddering breath as his own emotions resurfaced—pain and grief and loneliness. The warmth of the love soothed them, but unlike the sharp, negative emotions he gathered so often it didn’t dominate them, didn’t keep him from feeling them. Which was why Lloyd had started crying again.

“Hey there,” the guy holding Lloyd said softly. Lloyd blinked as his chest hitched, because he _knew_ that voice. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“Red?” Lloyd croaked through the tears, confusion bubbling inside of him. Because it _couldn’t_ be—he hated him, just like he was supposed to, and there was _no_ way he’d help him, especially outside of the mask—

The love coming from the guy—from _Red_ —flared, cutting off Lloyd’s thoughts. Because it was real, Lloyd could _feel_ it—which meant that Red—

Red _loved_ him?

How?

_Why?_

“Yeah, it’s me,” Red said softly. 

“But—” Lloyd stammered, trying to string his thoughts together in a way that made coherent sense. He was still crying, his chest hitching and making it harder to talk. “Why?” _Why are you here? Why are you helping? Why do you care about me?_

“Why?” Red echoed, confusion briefly joining the love.

“You—you’re supposed to—to hate me,” Lloyd forced through his sobs, needing to explain as pain—his own pain, this time—wrapped around his heart.

Horror burst from Red, confusing Lloyd as he flinched. But then Red was hugging him even tighter, love and concern and an underlying sadness—heartbreak?—drumming into Lloyd. Lloyd kept gathering it—not that he had a choice—and was grateful that the love gently extinguished the sadness that he collected.

“No, Lloyd, never—” Red took a deep breath. “That’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” another voice asked softly. Lloyd knew this one too—it was Cyan’s. Of course they were both here, they were siblings. He could feel her coming closer to them, her emotions similar in warmth to those of her brother’s.

“He thinks he’s supposed to be hated,” Red answered, his voice reflecting his sadness.

“Oh, Lloyd . . .” Cyan’s voice carried the same emotion. Lloyd was trying to stifle his sobs so he could listen better, but when she didn’t say anything else, he gave up, burying his face in Red’s chest.

Nothing made any _sense_.

Then Cyan was gently gripping his hand in both of hers, sending even more love and concern and that underlying sadness coursing through him, confusing Lloyd enough that his crying cut off with a startled gasp. Cyan’s focus on him intensified, and then her sadness faded out, her love getting stronger.

There was so. _Much_. Love. It was filling him with a warm, intense glow that did the opposite of hurt—it made him feel _better_. Lloyd didn’t understand it—only his mom was supposed to love him, because she was obligated to—Cyan and Red were supposed to _hate_ him—they _had_ hated him—it didn’t make any _sense_.

Lloyd let out a shuddering breath, exhaustion washing through him now that he wasn’t crying anymore. 

“Is he alright?” It was another new voice, also familiar—Blue. He spoke hesitantly, almost as if he wasn’t sure if he should be here. Cyan and Red had both started when he’d spoken, their jolting surprise making Lloyd flinch.

“Sorry,” Red murmured.

“Is he?” Another voice—Black—repeated, this time making Blue swear in surprise. 

“He thinks we’re supposed to hate him,” Cyan answered with a mixture of fury and sadness.

Blue sucked in a breath, and Lloyd flinched again as his and Black’s horror—thankfully not very strong, without direct contact—hit him. It was quickly smoothed away by the massive amount of love that pulsed inside of him.

Then Blue and Black were gathering close, not touching Lloyd but still radiating love anyways. Distantly, Lloyd wondered how they were doing it—emotions were hard to control, and yet all four of the people around them had somehow focused on only feeling love. 

They just sat there like that for a while. Eventually, Lloyd shifted, blinking his eyes open to see Cyan kneeling in front of him. She had black hair cut in a bob, which fit her. The dark eyes that Lloyd was familiar with were soft but determined, a small smile appearing on her face when she realized that Lloyd was looking at her. Lloyd thought back to when he’d seen Red—Lloyd was still sitting in his lap and leaning against his chest, so he couldn’t see him very well—and the family resemblance was definitely there. Lloyd turned, looking at the others. They were both sitting cross-legged on the bench below them—which was when Lloyd realized they were sitting on the bleachers on the far end of the football field from the school—looking up at him with concern. Black had dark hair that made him seem paler than he actually was, while Blue’s frizzy red hair accented the freckles that Lloyd had known he’d had but never actually seen. The difference in stature was interesting to see outside of the gis, especially since their casual clothes hid the exact cut of their figures some—Blue looked even smaller than usual next to Black. 

Lloyd blinked at them, belatedly realizing that all four of them were wearing their respective colors, although Cyan accented her cyans with reds.

“You okay?” Red asked, shifting his arms so that Lloyd could easily pull out of them if he wanted to. Lloyd didn’t want to, though.

Lloyd swallowed. _Was_ he okay? He . . . he wasn’t hurting anymore, because the love had replaced the hate and his own grief was gone because the others were _here_ and they _loved_ him. The love was better than anything Lloyd had ever felt, but at the same time it made him so, so confused.

“I . . . yeah,” Lloyd managed. His throat was scratchy. “But . . . why . . . ?”

“Because we care about you,” Blue answered, his voice earnest.

Lloyd stared at him. “Why?”

That broken sadness came from all of them again.

“Because you’re our little brother,” Cyan said firmly.

Lloyd’s brain short-circuited.

What.

_What._

They thought—?!?

?!?!?

And then Lloyd was crying again. He didn’t know why, just pressed his hand to his mouth to try to get himself to _stop_ as his chest hitched painfully. Red pulled him close, letting Lloyd sob into his jacket again.

Eventually Lloyd managed to calm, the waves of pure love coming from the others helping to sooth his jagged confusion and disbelief. Questions still formed in his mind— _why, how, why_ —but Lloyd forced them back, resolutely ignoring them.

“Did you know that I’m addicted to brake fluid?”

Lloyd paused, confused. Everyone else was confused too, their attention all on Blue.

“It’s okay, though,” Blue finished, “because I can stop at any time.”

A moment, then there was a collective groan. 

“That was _awful_ ,” Cyan said.

Lloyd could practically see Blue’s grin. “Well, what do you call an alligator in a vest?”

“Oh, no, stop—” Black groaned.

“An investigator!” Blue answered cheerfully.

Lloyd started giggling, his face still buried in Red’s jacket. 

“What do you say to a llama that loves picnicking?”

“Blue, _stop_ —” Red groaned.

“Alpaca lunch!”

Another collective groan, but this time everyone started laughing. 

“Why couldn’t the pony sing in the choir? Because he was a little horse.”

Lloyd laughed harder as the others’ amusement amplified his own, bubbling in his chest brightly on top of the warm glow of love.

“Don’t ever believe an atom—they make up everything.”

“ _Blue_ ,” Cyan wheezed through her laughs.

“What?” Blue asked innocently. 

Eventually the laughter started to die down. Lloyd kept giggling, though, amusement still shining inside of him.

“Seriously, though,” Black said slightly breathlessly. “What were the chances that we’d all go to the same school?”

“Higher than you’d think, actually,” White answered, making all of them jump. Lloyd extracted his face from Red’s jacket, stifling his giggles as he looked up at his most logical teammate. White’s hair was short and flat-topped, almost a silvery blond, and he was wearing a white jacket, t-shirt and shoes along with a faded set of jeans that almost looked ice-blue. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, which he set on one of the benches when he reached them.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” White said, sitting down on the bench below Cyan, next to Black. “I didn’t check my cell phone until class had ended.”

“Your phone?” Lloyd asked, confused.

There was an awkward pause. Finally, Blue said, “Red texted us to tell us what was going on.”

Oh. That made sense.

Wait.

“You’ve . . . been texting each other?” Lloyd asked, suddenly feeling very small. His mind flashed back to the way that his own phone had been achingly silent over the last few days.

“Well, yeah,” Black said uncomfortably. “It, uh, helped us wrap our head around the fact that our leader and little brother was the son of our enemy.”

Lloyd froze.

They knew.

He’d actually forgotten that they _knew_.

Panic tore through him, kicking in his instinct to _run_ —

“Woah, hey!” Red said, locking his arms around Lloyd as he tried to shove himself away. “It’s okay, green bean! You’re okay!”

Lloyd struggled for a few more moments before he registered Red’s words. He stopped fighting, though his heart was still going double speed as he breathed too fast.

Then there were more arms wrapped around his shoulders, this time coming from the other direction. 

“Breathe,” Blue instructed in Lloyd’s ear. “You’re okay.” 

Love and concern seeped into Lloyd from the contact, cutting through the panic. Lloyd sagged into the dual embrace, his mind still racing but the instinct to run being dimmed by the warm glow.

After a few moments, Lloyd realized he was collecting the love radiating from those who weren’t in contact with him, too—it was less potent, but just as strong.

“Why . . .” Lloyd breathed. “I don’t . . . why?”

“Why what?” Cyan gently prompted.

“You love me,” Lloyd managed, though it came out sounding more like a question.

“Yep,” Blue said.

“But—”

Red cut him off. “Don’t you _dare_ say that we’re supposed to hate you.”

“But you _did_ hate me,” Lloyd stammered. “Back in the warehouse . . .”

Everyone’s expressions crumpled, heavy shame creeping into Lloyd’s chest.

“Not you,” White said firmly.

Lloyd blinked at him. “What?”

“We didn’t hate _you_ ,” White repeated. “We hated the concept of the son of Lord Garmadon, just as we’ve been conditioned to, but we never hated _you_ , Lloyd.”

“. . . What?” Lloyd asked, completely confused.

“It’s kind of like Garmadon’s goons,” Black said. “We don’t think of them as people who are just doing their job—we think of them as a threat, an extension of Lord Garmadon. As ‘goons’. ‘The son of Lord Garmadon’ is kind of the same—someone connected to him that we’re taught to blame, but in a kind of abstract way that doesn’t take into account that there’s an actual person behind the title.”

“Except you’re not at fault like the goons are,” Red added. 

“What we hated was _the son of Lord Garmadon_ ,” Cyan said softly. “But never you, Lloyd. Not the actual person behind that title. Never our Green.”

“And we shouldn’t have hated the son of Lord Garmadon,” Blue added bitterly. “It’s wrong that people do—it was wrong of _us_ to do it. But it was just a sort of subconscious thing that we’ve been taught to do. And finding out that our Green was the person behind that title . . .”

“Instant mental whiplash,” Black finished.

“It just took us a bit to consolidate that,” Cyan explained. “For us to work through the idea that ‘Lloyd Garmadon’ wasn’t this abstract scapegoat—that you’re our little brother.”

“Our Green,” Red added.

“We will never hate you, Lloyd,” White said quietly.

Lloyd stared at them, his mind slowly working through what they’d said. 

They . . . didn’t hate him? As Lloyd?

They didn’t hate him.

They _loved_ him. He could feel that love.

And they—they considered him their _little brother_.

They _loved_ him. Lloyd Garmadon him.

Lloyd made a noise that was somewhere in between a whine and a whimper as exhaustion claimed him, his muscles turning to rubber now that the pain and danger was gone. 

“Easy there,” Red murmured, both he and Blue helping guide Lloyd to lean against Red again. Lloyd closed his eyes—when had they gotten so heavy?—and let himself sink into the warmth of the others’ love.

“He looks exhausted,” Cyan said.

“He’d been under extreme emotional stress, especially due to his element,” White said, his voice sounding like it was floating away. “I’d be more concerned if he wasn’t burnt out.”

Dimly, Lloyd realized that he was losing consciousness. He stiffened, trying to force his eyes open.

“It’s okay, Lloyd,” Red said softly. “You’re safe. Let yourself go.”

Lloyd hesitated, but Red was right. He was with his team, their love for him glowing warmly inside of him.

Lloyd let himself slip into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know if anything didn't make sense/was unclear. 
> 
> I also might be doing another part of this fic that's basically the same thing but from Kai's perspective, if people are interested. 
> 
> Comments make my day :)


End file.
